As Soft As Thunder
by kriz-te
Summary: Post The Telling, full cast plus original characters, lots of twists! ::Part 10 posted: Rambaldi::
1. Chapter 1

As Soft As Thunder  
by kriz-te

Disclaimer: Alias characters are not mine.

Author's Note: Italic titles indicate POV.

**Chapter One**

_An agent_

Running for my life is something I have gotten used to. I wish that wasn't so but...it couldn't be helped. And now I find myself doing it once again. Stark white walls leave blurs in my vision and I try to go faster. I think I've left my pursuer behind but I'm not sure.

I hate high heels. They make so much noise when you're trying to be unheard. Why does wardrobe insist on these ridiculous outfits? They work when things are calm, but they are just not practical when crunch time comes. This tight red skirt is really hampering my strides. I'm tempted to just shed it, but that would take too long, plus I'd get a lecture from Sloane if I were show up for extraction half naked.

Finally! I see my break. A ladder to the restricted floor is in a niche on my right. I pull my hair sticks apart to get my lock picks and within seconds, I'm practically ripping the door open. Starting to climb, I remember another reason why I hate high heels. They have no grip at all.

Using my arms to leaver myself through the manhole, I swing up but slip and land flat on my back. Damn! I can hear the echo of his steps in the hall below through the floor. I was so sure he was farther behind. Well, there is no other place but here to make my stand. I maneuver my body around halfway behind and take careful aim through the manhole.

As I lie in wait my mind slips back to the day I got myself into this business. It was a regular boring day at the city library. I was behind the counter as usual when a sandy blond haired young man stepped up with some books.

I started to check them out and wasn't paying attention to him but his words soon caught my attention.

"You know, I've been watching you for the past few months."

So I know I'm not bad looking, and I love not being the stereotype librarian, but I was still never approached like this.

"You fit a certain profile almost perfectly."

Now he was just being corny. I raised my eyebrows and simply replied, "Not interested."

He chuckled a little. I found it an annoying sound.

"I'm sorry, you misunderstand me. I'm not trying to ask you out, I'm offering you another job. My employer has certain things he looks for in his employees. He asked me to check into you and I have. I've been watching you and I think you are almost a perfect match to what he needs. If this life gets to dull for you, give us a call."

He sliped a business card face down on the counter as he lifted his books, gave me an amused smile and left. I picked up the card and again raised my eyebrows at the logo of the CIA.

Needless to say, I did call. And now I work for a man named Arvin Sloane. He can be very demanding and sometimes I really don't like him all that well. But he picked me for a very specific reason, and I wouldn't change my mind. I guess he's not so bad after all; he did apologize for the fake CIA story right off.

Once I heard the truth about his operation, he told me I still had a choice if I would agree to training or not. But I'd already made up my mind I was in, I would never have this chance ever again, so I signed on.

After only 7 months of training in all manners of all things spy, Sloane arranged a meet and handed me my first mission.

I pulled the top sheet of paper out of the manila folder and started reading. I soon registered the jist of my orders, and I smiled because this gave me exactly what I wanted. Long term, deep-cover, and Michael Vaughn.

Now, as I wait for a body to appear through the opening, I smile to think that that day was the real beginning of my life. I wouldn't take anything back. Because I know that within the couple years, the running will be over for good.

_Sydney_

I sit across from the love of my life and I cannot absorb the words he just uttered.

"What?" I whisper brokenly.

"I'm so sorry. But you were gone for so long...you were dead. I looked..I promise I did. But you were gone..." He won't raise his head to meet my eyes.

"You were gone," he quietly states.

"For two years?"

He nods. "Almost."

I stare at his ring. "Vaughn.."

He looks at me with an expression that breaks my heart even more. I must get this clarified as soon as possible.

"You're married?"

He looks absolutely miserable as he nods again. There is such a huge lump in my throat. It hurts really bad and the pressure behind my eyes is building so fast. I can barely get the next question out.

"Who?"

He leans forward, puts his head in his hands, and starts to say her name.

"Wait, don't," I suddenly don't want to know.

The sobs come unbidden. Vaughn just sits across from me as I struggle to get myself under-control. I try to remind myself there are other important things I need to find out but I cannot remember what they are. All I know right now is that the man that matters most to me is no longer mine.

I hope you are intrigued, please review! Feedback is the fuel I write on!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_An Agent_

I am so glad Sloane let us use the private jet for this mission. I need the solitude to regroup after the close call while finding the lab. I wonder if I killed Sark; I didn't have time to check after he fell back through the manhole. I at least wounded him severely enough to keep him from coming after me. And that would have to be badly, he's become a very determined person. At the very least he'll be out of the field for months to come. That definately makes my job somewhat easier.

Looking out of the large cabin windows at the lights of LA as they grow on the horizon, I wonder if what I'm feeling right now really is peace. As of this moment, I have basically no worries. I am still alive. Sark is either badly hurt or better, dead. And I can be the normal wife returning to her loving husband.

Yes, my loving husband Michael. Before I learned the truth about his life from Sloane, I missed him. I'd pretended to be over our sudden break-up for the sake of others, but I was still hurt and angry yet I still wanted him back for awhile. What I really hated though, was the fact I didn't even have a chance to face the woman who stole him away. In hind sight, I'd had a feeling it was that Rita from the hospital. His co-worker.

Finally, I gave up on all the nice feelings. I had tried to convince him it couldn't be over just like that but he just didn't want to make it work. So I grew bitter. Bitter against him and his mysterious Rita. How could he love me one day and her the next? What did she have that I didn't? I know the full story now and that doesn't make it any better.

I found out the truth when I read that first folder on my target's background. The man I once couldn't have imagined living without had lied to me our entire relationship. Michael had never worked for the State Department. He was an agent for the CIA. And the woman from work wasn't really named Rita, but Sydney Bristow. His agent.

It all fell into place then. I was furious. He had lied to me and risked practially everything to be with his agent. Sydney had lied to me when she hadn't even known me. And they got together behind my back.

Then I read that she had been presumed dead for almost a year. Things couldn't have been any more perfect from there on out.

I worked on getting Michael back with everything I had, and something happened that I did not expect. I stopped hating him. I saw him go from utterly devastated to relatively normal to quite happy. My bitterness and hate seem to have gone along with Sydney.

The 20 minutes until landing is announced by our pilot. Shaken from my reverie, I pull out the vial Sloane had sent us to recover. It had been scheduled to undergo analysis in an research lab in Peru and Sloane had just found out. The job should have been a quick in and out. Of course, Sark complicated that, but my partner and I are good. Danny got me the lead of seconds I'd needed to reach the lab first. Vaugely, I wonder who Sark could have been working for, but it's pointless to know. He'll be out of commissions permanently, I hope.

Playing with the small glass and metal bottle, I regress in my thoughts towards Michael. I had honestly thought winning him back after she was gone wouldn't be that hard, but watching him struggle with his grief, I thought maybe I'd underestimated him. He was even ignoring Weiss. So I quit all the plans I'd made and just pitched my voice in with Weiss. As I helped Eric take care of him, I think I earned some respect from him and I came to care for him again.

Now, I am comfortable in my role as loving wife. I know that someday, maybe soon, it will end, but until then, I'm enjoying all the time that I can, even if it is a lie. It's a nice one. Sometimes I wonder about him though. He seems very happy with me, but I honestly don't know why he proposed. I'd thought it would take longer to get him to make that step. But he gave this lovely speech about how since I had been there for him after 'Rita' died, he had come to realize how much I'd always meant to him. I'm sure he unconsiously considers me second best, but that's fine, she's dead and it made my job easier.

When he asked, I'd had to tell Michael I would have to think about it, because marriage wasn't necessarily in my orders. I reported the event to Sloane the next day. Sloane surprised me and told me to go ahead and answer whatever I wanted. My job was simply to get close and stay close. He would tell me what he specifically wanted with Michael when the time was right. So I decided to say yes.

The seatbelt lights come back on and I reach to secure my buckle. I glance across the stylish cabin at my partner. Danny is an interesting person. He also has a past with Sydney, but he doesn't know that I know about it. When we were first assigned to each other, Sloane let me read his file.

This is only the second mission we have been on and it seems we work really well together. I wonder how much he knows about Sloane and his plans. He probably knows as much as I do but even us top-level agents are not allowed to talk amongst ourselves about it.

Danny looks up at me and smiles. He is already typing out his report. I should be doing mine, but instead I've just been remembering.

The plane lands on the private, deserted landing strip. It only takes a few minutes to get my luggage and put it in the trunk of my waiting ice blue BMW Z3. Another perk, I got to pick my own car. I leave the top up and turn on the radio but my favorite station is just commercials so I flip it off again.

Driving home gives me even more time to reflect. My cover is that I work for a publishing firm. I'm a publicist and I meet with our small international clients. What I really like is that it's actually a legit job. I do enough real work to cover for my occasional missions. Sloane owns the firm but not under his real name of course.

I pull into the driveway of my two story, country-yellow house. Michael's Land Cruiser is not in the garage like normal. I wonder where he could be. I also wonder again how much longer it will be until I get word from Sloane to start the real reason I'm in Michael's life.

I'm a little regretful it will come to that. I will use the hypnosis I was trained in, but I am sort of sorry I will be using Michael so thoroughly. Yet it must be done if Sloane's plan is to succeed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Sydney_

He has made no move to comfort me. I suppose he thinks he can't. He is even more off-limits now than he was when SD-6 was around. I swear I can feel my heart breaking to be this close to him and not be able to touch him. 

I blink, swallow, and slow my gasping breaths. But I can not look up at him. The last memory I have of him keeps playing behind my eyes. I remember kissing him good-bye in the car and promising to be ready for our weekend in Santa Barbara. His eyes had shown with love for me, only me.

How could he move past all we had so fast? I don't want to think about it right now. If I do, I will only start crying harder and that, of course, will remind me of how he used to comfort me. With his hugs and whispers. With his assurances and promises.

It's hard and leaves me a little winded, but I get enough composure to ask about the others things that are important and relevant. I open my mouth to ask for details on Will, but the door to my room opens at the same time.

The man that led me here comes in and behind him are three armed guards. He walks over and talks to Vaughn.

"She needs to leave now."

"I see." Vaughn glances at me sideways. "Has Director Kendall arranged for transportation?" he asks.

The short man nods, "Yes. These are the guards he sent. They will take you to the airstrip." With that he leaves the room.

One guard remains by the door and the other two approach me. One pulls out handcuffs and puts them on my wrists. I am too stunned and too tired to react. The other has put a similar pair on my ankles, only the chain is longer so I can walk fairly easily.

"Look here, is that really necessary?" Vaughn objects, standing up. 

"Sorry, sir, just following orders," says the guard by the door. He opens it, ready to lead me away.

I guess Kendall hasn't changed much. The two flank me and pull me up from the bed by my elbows. They all lead me out the door and through the halls where people look at me with blank faces. In a place like this, they know not to ask questions.

Finally exiting the building, they lead me to a white van. I almost laugh when I'm surprised, was I expecting the modes of prisoner transport to have changed as well? 

A fourth guard is already sitting behind the wheel and Vaughn pushes past my little group from behind and hops in the passenger side. I can see him pull out his cell and start dialing. 

The two pull me into the back of the van and chain me to the bench. The third climbs in as well and slams the metal doors as the driver takes off.

_Vaughn_

He slams the heel of his hand against the dashboard in frustration and a lot of distress.

"With all due respect, sir, I do not think we should be treating Agent Bristow like a prisoner!"

Kendall is on the other end of the connection, and so he tries to keep the passion out of his voice but knows that won't happen. He's never been able to tone it down when talking about Sydney.

"Agent Vaughn. I know you had feelings for Miss Bristow, but you must not let that get in the way of your judgment. Do we have any idea where she has been all this time? Under the circumstances of her disappearance, I think it is very appropriate that we take precautions upon her return to us."

He hates condescension tone in Kendall's voice.

"I still say that it's futile to treat her as if she is guilty of crimes when we haven't the slightest idea there are any! Will this inspire her confidence in us? She has obviously been through a lot." Vaughn grimaces as he waits for Kendall's response.

He rubs his forehead and then stops, staring at his ring. Alice really was a nice person, but he'd never been in love with her the way he had been with Sydney. Still was with Syd, really. He wouldn't even have looked twice again at Alice, except…he sighs. And now, this turn of events just made everything worse. It is tearing him up inside all over again, even while he rejoices that she is alive. He jabs at his eyes, trying to clear his vision.

Kendall had called him that evening at around sundown and asked him to come into the office, which was odd. Normally, it was Jack who contacted him. Vaughn had known something highly unusual was up so he made it to the Joint Task Force as soon as possible. He knew Alice would be getting home from her conference in a few hours, so he'd wanted this meeting to go a quickly as possible.

But then Kendall had handed him a folder. And the words he spoke next shook Vaughn to his core.

"Agent Sydney Bristow just called us from Hong Kong. I'd like you to go get her and bring her back to LA."

"Syd?" Vaughn had whispered the question, staring at Kendall with wide eyes who stared back with narrowed ones.

"Yes, I suggest you get going, Agent Vaughn."

Vaughn was really grateful and really irked that Kendall would pick him to be the one to make contact with Sydney after 1 year and 10 months. Kendall couldn't honestly think he was over her, could he? Kendall knew what the marriage to Alice was really about. He probably just wanted to send a familiar, trusted face to Sydney, not caring about how it would really affect both parties. Vaughn pulls his attention back to Kendall's voice over the phone.

"...just do your job, Agent!" Kendall barks.

Rather than upset the uptight man anymore, Vaughn concedes, "Yes, sir." He sighs again.

"Good." Then Kendall disconnects.

_Sydney_

At least these guards aren't being rough. They've helped me out of the stopped van and I recognize the hidden CIA airstrip. I've been through here quite a few times, but this time is for a way different reason. If Kendall's got me locked up before I even get back to LA, it can only mean one thing for when I arrive. They are going to put me through all sorts of tests and therapy and analysis until I loose my mind.

The guards are guiding me before them into the waiting plane. I can hear Vaughn's footsteps on the tarmac behind me. They sound frustrated.

This is one of our general transport planes. One of the nice ones. There are two booths on either side and after we pass those, we enter the spacious cabin.

"Where do you want to sit," a guard asks gruffly.

I clear my throat, "One by a window, please?" Could my voice be any more hoarse?

He points to the nearest one and I sit down. Vaughn has entered by now and he sits down across the aisle. The guard undoes my handcuffs and ankle cuffs and moves them so my right wrist and ankle are now chained to the seat. He takes his place at the back of the cabin, next to the other guard who had passed us as soon as I had sat down.

I glance over to Vaughn, who is staring out his window. The forehead wrinkles are very prominent. The plane rumbles beneath us but his expression doesn't change. Those wrinkles always came out with his concern for me. I wonder, is that still the same? How much has this man changed? Knowing I might not be able to read his face anymore fills me with a sense of loss all over again.

This is going to be one long flight.


	4. Chapter 4

**  
Chapter Four**

_Sydney_

I end up listening to the silence in the seat across the aisle the entire flight home. In my mind, I was begging him to just forget about us and to tell me about what else I have missed and asking all sorts of questions. But I couldn't get myself to voice any of my thoughts.

Finally, while taxing on the ground to our rendezvous with another CIA van, I find my voice. I don't know why I chose to ask what I did, I suppose it was just on the top of the pile and I knew I might never get a chance to talk to him like this again.

"How did I go missing?"

Vaughn turns to look at me with a mildly curious expression. Then he looks at the floor and is silent for so long, I think that any minute he will turn away and not answer me.

"Do you remember I told you I was going to pick you up after my debrief?" He asks softly, that I almost don't realize he said something. Yes, that is still crystal clear in my mind. For me, that feels like it happened tonight. But all the feelings of excitement over going to Santa Barbara are completely crushed. I nod when he glances up at me.

"Well, I showed up. Right on time. You didn't answer your doorbell, so figured you were way back in your closet still packing, or in the shower or something. I walked in anyway, knowing you wouldn't mind," he swallows, then continues shaking his head a little.

"The place was a wreak. Everything looked broken. I could tell a fight had happened and I tried not to panic, but I knew something was wrong. I called your name and got no answer, so I started walked through. When I spotted Will in the tub, I snapped out of my daze. I called your father and told him what I'd found while I checked Will. I found a slight pulse and called 911. It's all a big blur to remember now, but I know I did make it into your room sometime that night, still looking."

I was reliving the fight all while he was talking. I can still remember shooting that fake and trying to get up and go back to Will. But my body hadn't responded. I had slipped into blackness and awoken to this….nightmare, really. I pay close attention to Vaughn's next words.

"I saw Francie dead, I was horrified then, and I learned about the double later. And that big mirror was shattered and I saw the gun amongst the glass fragment. There was blood all mixed in it, it later tested to be yours. But you," he has to pause and take a breath.

"You weren't there. It was like you had evaporated. We searched for a long time but everything was a dead end. After about a year…you file was changed from missing to presumed dead."

He is quiet and I look out my window. There is nothing I can say to that. The plane stops and the guards come to cart me away. Vaughn and I exchange a good-bye look. I have no idea what he is thinking.

I am escorted off the plane, into the waiting van, and driven to face the rest of my new but familiar world. I can't help but wonder if Vaughn being married is one of the least or one of the greatest surprises I will have to learn to live with.

_Agent Alice_

It has been three hours since I got home and I am very….anxious. I know I told Michael I would be home around 8:30 tonight. But it's pushing midnight now and there is no sign of him. Where in the world could he be? This is very unlike him. If he'd been called by the CIA, he would have left a note saying he'd had to run to his "job" at the State Department. Yet the counter is empty. 

At first, I was willing to believe it was just a rare late night at his office, so I unpacked and settled in to watch a movie while I waited. When he wasn't back by 11, I gave up.

Now I am standing in the kitchen in my pajamas, staring at the microwave clock. It blinks 11: 52 and finally 11:53. I don't think he will be back tonight. Now I am faced with a new dilemma. Is this something that will have a rational explanation or will I need to report this to Sloane? I will probably include it in my report anyway, better safe than sorry. Still, if this turns out to be some innocent night with Eric that he forgot to tell me about, I hate how it will look to Sloane after I raise an alarm.

Well, Michael or no Michael, I desperately need my sleep. And to think I wasted all this time being worried. Obviously, the months of just living with him have softened me even more. But I am resolved that will not matter when it comes down to the final line.

_Vaughn_

The garage door rattles up and Vaughn pulls into his space when it is well into the day. His wife's car is there, and his hearts sinks a little. He was hoping she'd be out. It was a futile hope born from cowardice, he knew she never had to work the day after a "conference," but he is so tired from having his life turned upside down yet again. He does not want to have to face Alice yet.

Trying to appear as if everything is normal, Vaughn makes himself walk briskly into the house and smile when he sees Alice walking across the living room towards him. Her short blond hair is rumpled and she's still in her pajamas. She purposefully strides right over to give him a hug and a kiss.

He accepts it, what else can he do? But he isn't going to wait for her to grill him, so he plunges in.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you got home."

Alice steps back and eyes him curiously.

"I'm just glad you're alright. I tried to call you. What happened?"

He already knows that. Vaughn tries for a mixture of the truth and a small stretch. Eric will cover for him, he knows that too.

"Yeah, I saw my missed calls on my way home. I got called into State last night, and I thought it was gunna be quick and that I'd be right back but…it wasn't," he sighs.

"I just decided to sleep at Eric's since he was closer and I was really tired."

Alice gave him another once over with her eyes before leaning up to give him another kiss along with her forgiveness.

"Okay, I'm glad I know now. Just..you have a right to call your wife if stuff comes up," she tried to tease him. He wasn't in the mood to play along, so he just gave her as best a "point taken" smile as he could and headed straight for a shower.

_Alice_

I start to get breakfast ready while he is in the shower and take the time to think about what's happened. While Michael looked just fine when he walked in, he seems to be distracted with something. The only thing I can think of is that something big happened at the CIA. So I am inclined to believe his explanation, but there has to be more to it as well. What was so important that they couldn't tell him the truth when they brought him in?

I can't come up with anything right now, but instinct tells me that changes are ahead and I better keep a closer eye on him.

The pipes stop their faint noises as he turns the shower of and I hear him bumbling around in the bedroom. A half-smile comes to my face before I can stop it as I remember when we were shopping for our furniture and he was insisting that we each have our own chest of drawers. I wouldn't have minded sharing a dresser, but when I suggested it, he flat out wouldn't hear of it. I found it quite amusing at the time, but gave in easily.

I curiously look towards the door, he hasn't come out. So I go over to tell him breakfast is ready, and have to stop in the middle of starting to speak as I see him sprawled over his side of the bed. Already asleep. Eric's sofa must not have been very restful, if he was even there at all.

With a small sigh, I turn back to go eat alone.

I mentally compose my next message to Sloane while I am cleaning up, and I'm on the way to my own shower, when I hear Michael muttering in his sleep. Thinking nothing at first, I freeze when I recognize what he's saying.

"Syd…no….. Syd don't be gone…"

I can hear the blood rushing in my head. He hasn't had a dream about her for while. I shouldn't even bother being concerned. She's dead and he's a means to an end. But compounded with my personal feelings, is the realization that this is happening at the same time as something at the CIA…

I focus all too clearly on the implications of that thought. What if Sydney Bristow is not dead after all?

After the plane ride and arrival at the strip in LA, I was handcuffed again, carted in a white van again, sent through all sorts of tracking device detectors, metal detectors, electronic scanners, and radiation detectors. They took a blood sample and a urine sample. I swear, I am going to let Kendal have it when I see him.

Then they brought me here, this is the thing that really infuriates me, to be held in my mother's old cell. Just brought me and dumped me and I haven't seen another human for an hour or so.

The camera's are blinking their little green and red lights at me. I wonder who is watching me from the other side. I can't believe they would put me in the same cell as that woman. Is it a sign of what they now think I am?

There are so many questions I want answered. How has the search for Sloane gone? Is he dead or alive? Vaughn said Will was ok, but how? What has happened to him these past years? Where was I? Oh god! What if they've seen me do things that I don't remember doing!

That must be it. I must have been taken by Sloane, brainwashed, and forced to work for him, and flaunted to the CIA. Therefore, the CIA must think I've turned. The fact that scares me is I don't know if that's true or not! I must have been doing some sort of fighting. Besides a new scar on my stomach, since being in this cell, I've found one on my right shoulder and one on my left hip. Both small but recent.

I wish I could talk to my dad! He'd listen to me...unless he thinks I'm following in my mother's footsteps. Where is he? What has he been up to? And Dixon? and Marshall? Marshall had a crush on Carrie last I knew. What has happened there? and Weiss! Did he encourage Vaughn to go on and forget me when they couldn't find a trace? I guess I should say IF they couldn't find a trace. Did Vaughn's love for me die while he watched me do horrible things that I can't remember?

No longer crying for just the loss of Vaughn, I am crying for the loss of two years of my life. Two years that I should have been fighting for good, instead I might have been fighting for evil.

_Sydney_

In the main room of the Joint Task Force a grizzled old man stood stiffly watching surveillance videos. The young woman sitting alone in the cell had started sobbing and it broke his heart he could do nothing about it.

As Jack watched his daughter just as many questions flowed through his head as had been flowing through hers. The truth was there had been so sign of her for the one year and nine months he had been searching. And out of the blue she called and asked to come in. Kendall was right to be cautious but forbidding any contact with Sydney unless authorized by him was a bit to much.

He wondered what had happened in those years to make her cry so hard upon her return. Well, since when was he one to follow the rules! Jack turned and walked crisply down the hall to the access gates. 

As he walked, his mind still churned. Mostly with frustration for Kendall. Did Kendall really think Jack had grown soft while Sydney was gone? Did he really think Jack would break down upon the arrival of his long-lost daughter? Jack was sure of it. Every word that man spoke alluded to an incompetence on Jack's part.

But Jack knew better. If he had been growing soft it had been when his daughter had been around. The time without Sydney had forced him to reevaluate his life strongly. He had become even more closed off and reclusive. No one got around Jack Bristow's defenses. Even Barnett had given up on him. He had lived with one purpose only. To make Sloane and Irina pay.

Now, the one person who ever had gotten around the wall's he'd built after Laura "died", was sitting in her mother's cell, looking more broken than ever before. And he was so confused, not willing to give in quite yet to the heartstrings the sight of his daughter pulled.

Jack put his card key in the access slot and let the computer take his fingerprint. The gates started to rumble up and to the side as he was cleared and he walked down the hall.

She looked so broken, so defeated. He stood quietly in front of the window, waiting for her to notice him. She was stretched out on the cot, her arms folded around her body and her legs curled up together. She made no move to cover her face or wipe away the tears streaming from her closed eyes. It was awhile but Jack finally saw her chest stop heaving, her arms relax. She blinked, then opened her eyes wide as she saw him standing there.

"Dad!" She cried out, her voice sounding strangled.

Jack wondered at the mix of relief, reserve, love, and anger that was evident in her eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_Irina_

Breezes rustled the palm tree branches and scattered the loose white sand of the beach in little flurries against the thick posts holding up the beach house deck. Just a few feet away lay the calm jade ocean. Small waves lapped at the shore and curled around a woman's sophisticated ankles. 

She was standing completely still, letting the waves bury her feet in the sand. Her loose linen pants fluttered in the breeze, the hems damp. As if she were hugging herself, she gripped her shoulders to ward against any sudden chills. And long red-brown hair blew behind her while her deep brown eyes squinted against the setting sun as it balanced on the horizon.

This place was her stronghold, her fortress, her home. She had located and bought it soon after she has escaped the US, unbeknownst to the KGB. She had asked for a leave of absence, citing psychological reasons as a result of her deep-cover mission. She had disappeared here to "recover," but also had another purpose. She had also come here to bring another daughter into the world.

At that time, Irina had stayed on the island only as long as was necessary to birth Paris and then get back in shape. Then she had gone back to the KGB with no one the wiser but the nanny. Soon, she found herself with many opportunities that led to her leaving the KGB and becoming "The Man." During that role she had taken plenty of "business trips" alone; returning to the island to spend a few days with her growing daughter and leaving new instructions with the nanny. It worked for a long time.

Then her stint as The Man was ended by her firstborn, and she hadn't been able to return for a long time after that anonymous security was gone. Other things had become very important, and her latter daughter had become an understanding person.

Irina made sure that Paris was raised knowing the truth. She was well aware of the reasons for her mother's prolonged absences. And she had a better childhood than most children. The nanny soon became her teacher as well and she was taught self-defense and weaponry. By now, she could speak as many languages as her mother. Paris had also always shown she'd inherited the temper of her father along with the looks of her mother. She was definitely Jack's, and Irina had purposely chosen to give her his last name, legally. Still, recently she'd been meeting people from Irina's world and had wisely chosen to go with the name Derevko amongst them. 

Irina shifted her feet out of the wet sand and started slowing walking along the surf, deep in thought.

Although most people who knew her, or thought they did, would have said that she's always worked with others or was loyal to others, her only ultimate loyalties had ever been to herself. And she would never harm her family. Hurting them might have been necessary, and although the things she'd done seemed like betrayals, they weren't. They only seemed that way because Jack and Sydney did not have all the information she did. Hurt them? Yes, she'd had to. Harm them? Never.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to focus on the present and still her inner troubles. But it didn't work. Her best agent lay inside her house with gunshot wounds that would keep him out of service for at least a month...probably two. And there was no one else she could trust with his duties. She wished for a moment she had not sent Sydney back to the CIA.

But that was a foolish wish. Sydney needed to be exactly where she was, in the condition she was, and both of them knew it. Well, Sydney had forgotten it. Her memories of Irina, Paris, and the beach house were gone. But she would remember eventually. Everything had been planned out with great detail and care.

Sloane was the more immediate problem. When he'd finally regained consciousness, Sark had reported that his agents retrieved the vial. Irina cursed under her breath. This made the 9th one that he had barely beaten her to. She thought about the final prophecy Rambaldi had written. It's full scope wasn't well known except to the highest followers. Irina knew because once she had seen the page naming her in a major role, she had made it her business to know. 

The prophecy had been split apart, written on 47 different blank pages. And each page seemed to be complete in itself and required a different liquid compound to bring out the ink. She knew that by now Sloane had amassed most of the pages and quite a lot of the vials, but she was fairly certain he wasn't any farther along in understanding Rambaldi's endgame that she was. Irina knew the pages would make no coherent sense unless all were exposed and placed in the right order. Even if only one page was left blank, it would not be clear. This was the main reason she knew her plan had a good chance of succeeding. She was collecting as many vials as she could as insurance and to gain more time.

So far she had collected 19. She did not know how many Slone had, besides the 9, but that was no problem. Her agent in within was quite capable of finding out if she ever really needed to know. Irina stopped her pacing and began to walk back up the beach, back to her house. One more night of reviewing the details and hammering out kinks and soon she could get the real action started.

_Sydney_

The surveillance cameras are blinking their little green and red lights back at my unamused eyes. I wonder who is watching me from the other side; do they find it as ironic as I do that I was placed in my mother's old cell? I have come to the only conclusion I can. I am a highly dangerous person and I don't know why.

I turn my back to the camera and lay down on the cold steel cot. There are so many questions that I want answers to. But I have no idea when I'll get them. What has happened to Sloane? Is he dead? Alive? Are we still looking for him or is he found and the task of taking him down underway? Vaughn said Will was ok, but that's not enough information. What has happened to him these past years? Is he still with the CIA? Did he have to go into the Witness Protection Program? And last but definitely not least, do they have any information on me from these years? My current location suggests they either know as much as I do, or they know some pretty terrible things and took the opportunity to apprehend me for crimes I do not remember. 

I take a deep breath and sigh. The worst would be that I was taken by Sloane, brainwashed, forced to work for him, and flaunted to the CIA. He couldn't have resisted it. And the CIA thinks I've turned. No, the realy worst part would be that I can't even defend myself. There is great evidence I have been fighting. Besides the new scar on my stomach, I've found one on my right shoulder and one on my left hip. Both small but recent.

I suddenly wish I could talk to my dad! He would give me a chance to talk and would listen to me...unless he thinks I'm following in my mother's footsteps. But where is he? Why haven't I seen him yet? And Dixon? And Marshall? And Weiss! Did he encourage Vaughn to go on and forget me when they couldn't find a trace? Or did all of their trust in me and Vaughn's love for me die while they watched me do horrible things that I can't remember?

I am soon crying. Not just for the loss of Vaughn, but for the loss of my old life and these years I should have been fighting for good as well. They are also tears of protest against the thought that I might have been fighting for evil.

_Jack_

In the main room of the Joint Task Force the stern man stood stiffly watching the live surveillance of a certain cell. The familiar young woman sitting alone in the cell had started sobbing and it broke his heart he could do nothing about it.

As Jack watched his daughter, just as many questions flowed through his head as had been flowing through hers. The truth as he knew it was there had been no sign of her for the one year and ten months he had been searching diligently. And then one day, out of the blue, she called and asked to come in. Kendall was right to be cautious, but forbidding any contact with Sydney unless personally authorized by him was a bit too much.

He hadn't heard a thing about her situation since the call informing him of her contact and that Agent Vaughn would be delivering her to the JTF in the morning. Jack wondered what had happened to her to make her cry like that. A few more moments looking at the image, and he though…well, since when am I one to always follow the rules! Jack turned and walked crisply down the hall to the access gates.

As he walked, his mind still churned. Mostly with frustration for Kendall. What did the man hope to accomplish by keeping her under lock and key as a high profile prisoner? Jack assumed there would be a debrief and tests, but he knew there were better accommodations than her mother's old cell. He assumed Kendall had made that connection on purpose. No one would miss it.

Jack knew there were plenty of unknowns in this case, but damn it, this was his self-righteous daughter and he was going to give her the benefit of the doubt unless there was concrete proof that she had changed her allegiance.

He knew he was being the rare optimist for her, but the worst thing to happen to him besides losing his wife had happened and this was a change he'd never thought to get. After Sydney's disappearance, he had completely closed off and lived with one purpose only. To make Sloane and Irina pay. There was no doubt in his mind that they were behind it.

Now, the one person who could honestly say he fully loved and could straighten things out was sitting in her traitorous mother's cell, looking more broken than he'd ever seen her.

Jack put his card key in the access slot and let the computer take his fingerprint. The gates started to rumble up and to the side as he was cleared and he walked down the hall.

She looked so defeated. He stood quietly in front of the window, knowing she would have heard the gates and would soon turn and look for her visitor. She was still lying on the cot, her arms folded around her body and her legs curled up together. She made a quick movement of wiping off her cheek and calming her breathing. Only when she'd gathered herself together did she look up.

"Dad!" She cried out, her voice sounding strangled.

Jack wondered at the mix of relief, reserve, love, and anger that flashed in her eyes.

He watched with his poker face as Sydney swung herself off her bed and came to stand in front of him. She looked at him curiously, and tucked her hair behind her ear. It was plain she was unsure how to react to him.

"Where have you been?" he asked in his sternest voice. Might as well get down to business; he'd never give her the chance to knowingly crush him if he told her what he was feeling.

Sydney pulled back as if slapped, a puzzled look now on her face. "Kendall didn't tell you?"

Jack just stared, "Tell me what?"

"That I don't know," she paused. "I can't remember."

"You can't remember where you've been, what you'd done, for almost two year?" This was not anything Jack had predicted her answer could be.

"Dad!" Her voice took on an almost frantic note.

"You've got to believe me! I can't recall a thing! I passed out after the fight with Francie's double and then I wake up in a Hong Kong, wearing different clothes. I call in, Vaughn shows up married and tell me two years have passed! But all I see in that space of time is black. That's all there is. Black."

Jacks eyes became thoughtful as he watched her pace round the cell, her voice hard with a hint of desperation, flinging her hands in emphasis.

"After the black, boom! I wake up in Hong Kong. HONG KONG, with no idea why. Was I on a mission? I must have been working for someone, to be in that city…but were they good or bad?" She stopped in front of her dad and glared at him.

"No, you tell me! Where have I been? What have I been doing?" She kept her voice controlled and pointed.

Jack was honestly startled. He believed her. There was no way she could be acting the pain and loss and fury he saw. He shifted his feet, not knowing what to say and looked at the ceiling, maybe for words.

"You don't know either, do you?" Sydney said softly and resigned. She sighed and turned back to sit on the bed. She balanced on the edge, her hands tucked between her knees, gazing at her shoes.

Jack took a breath and leaned his hands on the ledge while he told her his side of the story.

"Vaughn called me that night after his debrief, sounding panicked and saying he'd found Tippin injured and the place a wreck. When I got to your apartment, an ambulance was taking care of Tippin and Vaughn was still frantic." Jack paused, thinking how best to condense into a few sentences the time the whole station had spent looking for her. Time they really needed to have concentrated on finding Sloane.

But there had been no solid clues and tiny leads that dead-ended. By the time they had begun to focus on Sloane again, he was well away with a new network. Now they were hard pressed trying to gain a foothold inside his organization. All agents they had tried to insert had also gone missing. Quickly presumed dead.

"There were no clues, few leads. You'd disappeared. We spent six months with direct orders to find you, but there was nothing." Jack went on quieter. "I've spent the whole time since that night trying to find anything that could help, and I was still shocked to hear you'd voluntarily come back. "

Sydney raised her eyes and stared at him. The JTF spent SIX months just focusing on her? Jack responded to the question in her eyes.

"Yes. Sydney, you were one of the top agents in the whole CIA. They didn't care if it was on purpose or a kidnapping, they weren't about to let you slip away so suddenly or so easily."

Sydney's eyes narrowed with concern. "But I did." She looked away and then looked back, weariness now showing.

"Thank you for not giving up." She said, peering straight in his eyes. Jack let himself smile. He sensed rightly that she still the same Sydney he'd always known.

Jack also added another reason to hate Kendall to his mental list. The man had sent Vaughn to bring her home when he knew perfectly well about the two agents' history.

"Um, Dad? Could you maybe see about getting me a blanket and a pillow?" Jack swallowed and Sydney shifted where she sat, the echo of Irina's past blackmail request present in both of their minds.

He nodded and spoke. "I'll do what I can," he turned to leave and then paused.

"I love you."

Sydney smiled a small, grateful smile as he walked out through the rattle of the bars.

As he passed the surveillance monitors, he saw her standing at the window, leaning on her shoulder in the corner with her arms crossed, her facial features calm.

Jack had never admired his daughter's resilience more than at that moment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_Irina_

It had been a long night, and she now sat in her office, brooding. Leaning back in her big leather chair, she swiveled around so she could look out the large window at the ocean. Morning rays were spilling over the horizon. Irina found that no matter what else was going on, the most relaxing time to work and to think was at dawn. 

She had just come from talking with Sark. He'd awakened only an hour or so ago, and had immediately asked for her. It was good that he had, because his news was important. The agent that had taken him down had been Alice Vaughn.

Irina had known for some time that Alice was an agent for Sloane; she had run into Sark on missions for awhile now. He'd recognized her easily from his occasional surveillance of Vaughn. But they'd never had contact on any of his Rambaldi related missions. Until now.

If Sloane had made Alice aware of Rambaldi and his endgame, he must have a purpose for placing her back with Vaughn. And that meant Alice could be a complication in the plans. Irina knew she had to find out more about the woman.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes," Irina lifted the cell phone off her lap and answered it.

"The files are sent," a voice said.

"Thank you," Irina said, hanging up and leaning to her computer.

Irina had given one of her double agents for Sloane instructions to send her Alice's profile. As usual, he had complied quickly. The file she now scrolled through contained all of Alice's stats, aliases, and her psyche evaluation. There were also her mission briefs and debriefs. What Irina was reading did not make her like the woman anymore than she already did.

Evidently, Alice had excelled quickly after she'd been recruited. Irina gave the credit for that to the fact that she had participated in the Project Christmas summer camp. Once she had become a fully active agent, Sloane had told her his version of the truth. He had revealed the information about Project Christmas, the truth of Sydney's double agent status and Vaughn's role in Sydney's life. He told her all about Rambaldi, he told her all about Rambaldi's search for immortality, and all the history that had established Rambaldi as a genius, inventor, and prophet. 

Sloane had even shown her the page he received from the Monk, with his own personal prophesies on it. And everything pointed to the fact that Alice had believed him completely. Which was fine, Irina guessed, she believed herself. It was just that Sloane was absolutely convinced his interpretation was the right one and he didn't even consider the possibility he might be wrong.

No, the danger wasn't that Alice believed Sloane, it lay in the fact that not only was Alice in a position to limit and estrange Sydney's contact with Vaughn; she was also in a position to gain valuable knowledge about the CIA.

Irina had no doubt that once Sloane gave her the orders, Alice would pump Vaughn's subconscious for all the information she could get. She would plant bugs and hack his computer. She could severely compromise the CIA.

And the stupid CIA would let her. Irina knew the CIA was having major setbacks trying to infiltrate Sloane's networks. They had realized too late their mistake in devoting so many resources to find a missing agent, even if she was one of their elite.

Things had seemed to reach a dead end when they realized what actually had walked into Agent Vaughn's life. Irina could only give the credit for that to Agent Vaughn himself. The man was no idiot and Alice had made one little slip up. She had made a joke referencing something that Vaughn knew he'd never told her. She had actually covered well, saying that he had muttered something in his sleep, but it was enough for him to report it to Kendall.

Kendall had done a little digging. He found out Alice had participated in Project Christmas under a false name, and there was the surveillance video from the library, proof of contact with a suspected agent for Sloane. Searching her phone logs revealed numbers and it was confirmed. Alice was working for Sloane.

Her relationship with Vaughn had been the best opportunity available to the CIA at the time. Kendall had ordered Vaughn to keep her close. He wanted her in a spot where they could easily keep her under surveillance. Soon, Kendall had drawn up a full blown undercover operation and ordered Vaughn to propose. 

Vaughn had readily agreed to the assignment. Irina knew that he'd take the chance to get back at Sloane and avenge Sydney.

She supposed the connection between the past leaks, Will, and that doubled agent weren't as apparent to the CIA as they were to her. But she really had hoped for better sense from them. Alice would eventually find out the CIA was on to her and things would get ugly.

Irina turned back around to her ocean view. Irina now saw that Alice was more of a threat than she'd previously thought. It wouldn't take much to adjust her plans to fit this development, but she still didn't like having to alter from a course long set.

She thought briefly about flying to LA and bringing Vaughn in, but then quickly discarded that thought. He was not yet ready to face her without the glass window, a safe barrier, and when Sydney was told, she could hold her own. 

With that thought, Irina stood up and stretched while walking out the door to go get some breakfast. Her last real thoughts on the matter were ones of excitement, looking forwards to the upcoming date when Sydney would be released from CIA custody and the memories would start coming back. 

**Three months later...**

_Sydney_

I look down as I smooth some small wrinkles from my new standard issue black suit. It is a very welcome change from the uniform I've been wearing for what feels like forever. Even more welcome is that fact that today, I am being released from custody.

The journey to this day has been filled with so many ups and downs. I still remember nothing and see the big black void, and I don't think Kendall believes me anymore now than day he did on day one.

Why else have me kept in here repeating test after test after test for months on end? I've been through countless brain-wave lie-detector tests. I've submitted to various medical testing, undergone psychoanalysis sessions from Barnett on a weekly basis, and gone through many unsuccessful regression therapy sessions. I was extremely weary after only a few days.

But besides determining that I am sane, healthy, and not the least bit happy about being treated this way, nothing has been learned about where I have been, what I have been doing. No memories have returned.

The only good thing about these past months has been seeing my friends again. At first, it was very strange because to me, I'd seen them a few days ago. But they have all changed and their reactions at my return have all served to cement the realization of my lost years.

I'll never forget seeing Will. Dr. Barnett had arranged for him to be at my first session with her and she gave us our privacy. He stood tall and healthy and I started crying before he'd even said anything. It was so good and so unrealistic to see him alive and well after witnessing him lying in the bathtub and Will was just overwhelmed at finally having me home. We both cried and hugged for what felt like hours. 

When he able to speak, Will told me that after my disappearance he applied for agent status and was accepted in the program. He never wanted to be as helpless as he was that night ever again. And he wasn't willing to walk out of my life, even if I wasn't there anymore. He did well in his classes, and he passed with solid marks.

But the CIA did not want to lose his analyst abilities in favor of regular agent status, so they made him a field analyst. Will also told me they never found Francie's body. That was hard to hear, I know it must have been harder for Will, but he assures me he's doing better since knowing I'm ok.

I was happy to learn that he bought my old place and restored it. He says he did so because it reminded him every day of why he was doing what he was, to avenge me and Francie. I could not be more proud of my friend. He's not even grumbling about being put on desk work indefinitely because Kendall was annoyed when he found out that we'd been allowed contact against his orders.

My dad also got in trouble for that unauthorized visit to my cell the first night. But of course he doesn't care. He got me that blanket and pillow and has visited regularly. He'd the one who warned me in advance what Kendall was ordering and he's recently informed that I will be having a full briefing tomorrow afternoon.

The only people that escaped Kendall's notice were Marshall and Carrie. Marshall called up some old footage to loop into my surveillance feed and they came down to tell me all about their wedding. How shocking but wonderful that news was! They proudly displayed their rings. Marshall told me that when I need to have my supply of handy everyday gadgets restored to come by the Op-Tech lab and he'll have them all ready. Carrie offered to go shopping with me after my release. 

Dixon also came by and just walked into my cell. By the time Kendall realized he was in there, we'd been through many tears and hugs. Dixon told me he and my dad had taken all my money and investments and kept tabs on them. They had transferred all of it to overseas savings accounts under different names so no one would touch it. It had seemed a pointless thing to do at the time, but he didn't know what else to do with it, and he didn't want the CIA to just repossess it. Kendall arrived to kick Dixon out at that last part and glared at both of us a lot. 

Weiss also came by and showed me the new yo-yo tricks he's learned. He seems to be unchanged. He was the first to make me laugh and I enjoyed the feeling of laughing again. Although it was a bittersweet reunion as well. We both avoided any mention of Vaughn.

Even though I have lost so much, I am so glad I have not lost the trust and faith of my friends. Their actions have given me back meaningful pieces of my life I had not thought to recover. I don't think I'll ever be able to show them how grateful I am.

At the same time, the actions of Will, Dixon, Dad, Weiss, Marshall, and Carrie just make it all the more hard for me to deal with Vaughn. Michael has been my saving grace in the past; here in the future he's been anything but. He has not come down to my cell, although I suspects he watches the monitors, and anytime he does see me, he looks right into my eyes, seeming so haunted I can't bear to look back for long. He stays strong though and treats me very proper and formal on the few occasions we have passed in the halls as I was led to my various sessions.

I wonder if he now resents his wife. The dismal, vengeful part of me would be glad if he did. Let him suffer as I suffer. Then I feel bad because I know I still love him deeply. At first, I thought I could get over him, but the look on his face cracks my heart every time I get a glimpse. I still don't know the name of his wife, but it's obvious she would not appreciate learning that his heart might lay elsewhere.

I am roused from these musings by the rattle of the bars opening. A guard detail comes down the hall along with Kendall and my father.

"Ready?" Kendall barks.

I nod and move to the door. The guard unlocks it and I swear I can feel the fetters falling off my soul. As I step through, yet again, I feel the prick of tears at the back of my eyes. My first act of freedom is to give m dad a hug. My heart smiles, he still smells like I've always remembered. Of aftershave and a clean suit.

He lets me go and turns to walk by my side out of the walkway. I get a good look at his face. He is trying to mask a smile. Who would've thought? Kendall glares at us for not maintaining a professional attitude and I feel like sticking my tongue out at him but he'd probably send me right back in the cell so I do it mentally instead.

The guards fall in place behind us and then leave for who knows where as we enter the main hall. Will is waiting by the main doors.

"Don't forget to report back here in the morning, Agent Bristow." Kendall just has to have the last word. He holds out his hand and he actually smiles. "Welcome back to active duty. It will be good to have you working with us again."

Suddenly, I get a feeling of sympathy for the man. After all, he is just trying to do his job right. I mean, I know I could have been in Sloane's custody. It's not my fault Kendall hasn't shown much empathy. Just to unsettle him a bit, instead of shaking his hand I give in to a rare impulse. I give him a hug and a real Sydney smile.

"It's good to be home, sir." I retort.

He clears his throat and just looks at me, unsure how to respond. I walk away down to Will, leaving Dad to deal with Kendall.

"Hey," I greet him, smile still intact.

"Hey, Syd." Will pulls me into a hug then stands back, gripping my shoulders.

"Ready to go home?" He asks while grinning.

I think my cheeks are going to be sore tomorrow from all this smiling. I nod to him and walk out into the sunshine. As bright as things look now, I know there will be a darker time to come. But I shove that thought out of my head and prepare to concentrate on getting my life back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_Irina_

The top of the black convertible was down and the car was speeding its way along the LA freeways. Irina's flight had landed less than two hours ago and she was on her way to meet Sydney. She was a mix of emotions but none of it showed on her face as she deftly maneuvered through the city traffic.

She was dressed simply and very casually in jeans, a white tank top that showed off her lean, toned arms, and white Nikes. Her low ponytail whipped around behind her head, but she didn't mind.

Glancing at the map secured to the passengers seat to make she had the right exit, she pulled off the freeway and began making her way through the maze of streets that was the real Los Angeles. About fifteen minutes later she was pulling into a deserted dirt parking lot satisfied she'd picked up no tails.

She drove slowly so she did not raise a cloud of dust and she roved her gaze over the abandoned warehouse sitting on the lot. Sydney had described this place to her in detail, so it didn't feel like unknown territory. But more importantly, she knew that the CIA had abandoned it. Therefore, it was the perfect contact point for this meeting.

Around the back, she found a garage door that opened by hand. Irina left her convertible running while she heaved the door up just enough to clear the car. Once inside, she quickly shut off the engine and lowered the garage door back down. Immediately, the interior went dark and Irina switched on the flashlight she'd grabbed from the glove box.

The warehouse smelt dusty and dry and her swinging beam lit up stacks after stacks of packing crates. Curious though she was about what was in them, Irina didn't stop to take a peek. She immediately made her way to the old office room in the corner. The door was locked, but it was just a regular key lock. Irina soon had it picked and open. She aimed her light around. A table stood against one wall, a cordless telephone sitting in the middle. Two chairs had been placed at it and one wall was stacked with more packing boxes.

She smiled when she picked up the receiver and heard a dial-tone. She hung it up, found the light switch, set her flashlight down, and then dialed a number she'd had memorized for a long time.

_Sydney_

The excitement of being free has worn off and I've had a bit of a lonely afternoon. Will didn't have much time to stick around after bringing me home. There was still some paperwork left to finish at his "magazine job". He apologized about it in the car and once he'd let me in, given me a key, a few words about what was in the fridge, a hug, and an apologetic smile, he was back out the door.

I took the time to wander around, noting the differences and the things that hadn't changed. It was evident Will hadn't touched much, but it was obvious he had settled into Francie's room. There wasn't much left in there of hers but a few picture frames with photos of the three of us and keepsake items with too many memories to doom to Goodwill.

Seeing my room was a bit of a shock at the same time as it wasn't. The bed was made, but there was nothing else left around. No photos on the table, no jewelry box on the dresser. My closet was completely bare. The bathroom had towels and toilet paper and hand soap, but nothing that suggests regular use.

I wandered out the living room, at a loss of what to do. I don't feel a desire to go out and shop yet. I don't really want to see all the changes in the fashion world yet. So I just borrowed a pair of Will's sweats and started in on a pint of Ben and Jerry's from the freezer. Curled up on the new soft blue sofa, I stare out the window, contemplating my itinerary for the next few days. First, I'm expecting a call from Dixon with my bank account information and next, Carrie is coming over after she is finished at the JTF to go shopping.

The telephone pulls me out of my dreams of a brand new wardrobe. Expecting Dixon's voice, the words I hear in answer to my bright hello shock me.

"Joey's Pizza?"

"Wr...Wrong number." I stutter and hang up. I'm stunned into confusion. That signal was retired a long time ago, right after the take-down of SD-6. And the voice! If I'm not mistaken, that was my mother. After a few more seconds of reflection, I realize I'm not that surprised to hear her voice. I'm more surprised that she actually called the house. It's almost like...almost like I expected her to call, but not this soon. What is going on here?

Everything seems to be in slow motion and my thoughts feel foggy trying to sort through the facts. I knew that call from my mother was coming. How I knew, I don't know, but I did.

I know I am going to go meet her at the warehouse. I know I don't want to turn her in to the CIA. What has suddenly come over me? Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm getting up off the sofa and putting the ice cream away and my spoon in the sink. Will's sweats come off and my suit goes back on.

But how am I going to get there? I don't have a car yet. I guess I'll have to borrow Vaughn's. No, no, what am I thinking. I can't do that. So borrow Will's? No, he needs his this afternoon and he'll be nosy. Dad's? Dad's could work. He finds plenty of things to stay at work late for, so he certainly has the time to lend me a set of wheels for an hour or two.

I pace the kitchen as I try to think. What am I doing? It's like I'm not really in control of me. Then an explanation occurs to me. From somewhere in the blackness, I'm telling myself things and it's confusing as hell. I've got to start thinking clearly again.

I make myself sit down at the table and I put my head in my hands. Trying hard not to think about anything in particular, the world slowly comes back into focus.

What I know is this: my mother called and I'm not surprised. I might even be a little glad. And while I still have no idea about my missing years, it seems very likely right now that she knows something. Whether I feel manipulated into this or not, I have to go meet her. I pick up the phone from where I dropped it and dial my dad's cell.

"Bristow," he answers.

"Hey Dad, it's me."

"Sydney. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, Dad, everything's fine. I was just wondering if I could borrow your car to go to the store and get a few things. Will had to go back into work."

"You haven't been given a car yet?"

"Um, no. All that re-issuing takes place tomorrow after my briefing."

"I'll be by in around half an hour," he hangs up.

I don't think I'll ever figure my father out. At least I know I can always trust him. Or can I? Why didn't I tell him about Mom's call? I realize I feel a strong compulsion not to.

I start washing the dishes in the sink trying not to think too hard or second guess myself. I've managed to live a long time in this business by trusting my instincts; I'm just going to have to do again.

Before I know it, my dad has pulled into the driveway in a car I don't recognize. I just finish putting the dishes away when the doorbell rings.

"Come in!" I yell.

Dad opens the door and waits for me to walk over. He hands me something as he starts to talk.

"I went ahead and signed these out for you."

I look down to see a set of keys and cell phone in my palm and smile.

"Thank you, Dad," I say as I give him a hug. He returns it and then holds the door open for me as we leave.

I take Dad back to the JTF, and then I'm all on my own in this. I still remember how to get to the warehouse, of course. This is one place I highly doubt I could ever forget. So much had happened here, I guess it's rather fitting of my mother to choose to meet me here.

I've pulled into the parking lot, but no other cars are here. Well, I didn't really expect Irina Derevko to announce her presence that obviously. I park where I used to and make my way inside.

Slowly, I walk around the boxes up to the cage, suddenly lost to memories. I can't believe the things so fresh in my mind really took place years ago. Then I look up and see her. My mother is sitting right where Vaughn used to sit.

My first thought is that she looks tanner than when I last saw her. And then I realize she's dressed more casually as well. I stop walking. I've seen her in that outfit before.

_I am sitting, relaxing in a white chair. My fruit drink is sitting on the table cradled by my hand. I glance at her, sitting on the porch rail beside the table. I find myself looking into her eyes. They are crinkled at the corners because her smile is genuine. _

_That smile is just for me, I realize. I feel my face respond in kind then we both go back to listening to the one of the other people gathered around the table. _

As quickly and vividly as the memory comes, it fades. But there it is, none the less. I dazedly walk through the little gate opening and she stands up. She comes over to give me a hug. I feel happy to see her, but half-heartedly return it.

"Let me look at you," she says, and she stands back to look me up and down. I watch her warily, but she seems to have a real interest in my well-being. She takes my elbow and guides me to sit down with her.

Mom smiles the same smile I just remembered.

"Tell me what has happened since Hong Kong," she asks straight out. I look her in the eye and she doesn't look away. I notice that she looks a little uncertain as well. Finally, some pieces of the puzzle fall into place in my mind.

I'm not sure I can trust my voice to not shake. "I was with you wasn't I?"

My mother nods and doesn't look away. A little sadness creeps into her gaze.

The corners of my mouth lift in a little smile of relief. I am so glad I was with someone I trust rather than with Sloane. It's a small moment of clarity, but I know without a doubt that I do trust her now.

As I open my mouth and begin to talk about all that's happened since I woke up in Hong Kong, there is an underlying thought that won't go away. I realize that by telling her, I have acknowledged to myself that I believe in what I have forgotten. A peace settles over me and we talk and I accept the fact that I truly love my mother and I would trust her with my life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The view that appeared in the helicopter windows seemed infinite. A vast field of icebergs was lazily following the currents of the crisp blue ocean all the way to the horizon. But this seemingly peaceful and serene appearance hid the headquarters of the newest, and some would say the most dangerous, threat to the governments of the world.

This location had been on Arvin Sloane's mind for a long time. In the seas of the Antarctic, few icebergs completely melted. They were never carried into temperatures sufficient for that. He'd had research teams tracking these migration patterns for quite a few years. Finally, a large enough berg had been located and deemed suitable for the type of facility he'd had in mind.

Tunnels and rooms had been carved out of the interior, the workers being extra careful not to disrupt the balance of the berg or drastically alter the distribution of mass. It had taken a long time, but it was finally ready to be inhabited. The blinking on the GPS locator in the cockpit signaled their arrival. The small helicopter landed on a natural occurring ledge about halfway up the east side.

Sloane emerged from the passenger side of the cockpit, bundled in a thick coat, and he strode across the flat to where there was a white box on the wall. He took off one of his gloves and flipped up the lid. Underneath was a simple keypad. The numbers 0-9 were displayed and a rectangle of green was flashing 7 blank spaces.

He pressed numbers and filled the spaces with asterisks. The screen went blank for a few second then it flashed: Approved. There was a faint click, and then a large portion of the wall depressed about 6 inches inward and slid up. Sloane looked behind him to where his pilot was unloading two small crates from cargo hold of the chopper.

The pilot brought the crates over and set them on the floor just inside the large doorway. There were four men waiting inside in a room with dull metal on all the surfaces. Sloane shook his hand before he headed back to the helicopter and lifted off, heading back the way they'd come. Sloane turned to the men waiting in the room and stepped in to join them.

There was another keypad on the inside of the outer wall and again he pressed a series of numbers. The big door dropped and pushed forward, back into place, camouflaging the only entrance to this place very effectively. After a second of total blackness, the place flashed with bright halogen bulbs that slid our from under covers in the ceiling.

A different sequence was pressed by one of the men into yet another keypad on the opposite wall. It split down the middle, the two sides sliding back completely. A long, brightly lit metal tunnel extended out before them and without waiting for instructions, two of the men each grabbed a crate and followed Sloane down the tunnel, another man beside Sloane and the last at the back.

Sloane lead the way through his fortress, a smirk fixed on his features.

_Sydney_

The sun is starting to set behind the warehouse when we're finally ready to leave. Mom walks me back to my car in silence. My mind is trying to figure out what to tell people about where I've been. No one can know that I am in contact with her.

With a sigh, I turn and give Mom a big hug. She has tears glistening in her eyes.

"I love you, Sydney. Good luck," she says and then quickly walks away, back into the building. I watch her with a heavy heart, trying not to believe the thought that this could be the last time I see her.

Driving away, a lump in my throat, I mentally review everything she told me. Mom said it was necessary for me to re-enter the CIA with no memory of the months I spent with her. If I had gone through the CIA's analysis with my memory intact, I never would have been able to hide anything.

She explained that we had made all the plans together. Therefore, we arranged a way to get my memories back after I had been released and cleared by the CIA. Her phone call was the trigger event. Actually, hearing her voice was. From now on, things like that will bring back memories instantly. Mom called them extra-sensory stimuli. She set them all when she used hypnosis to make me forget in the first place. I guess that some days I will recall three to four things. And some days none at all. It all depends on when these stimuli come.

So I'm finally feeling hope for the future. I may not remember much yet, but I will. I may not understand fully yet, but I will come to. And I realize I finally have something back that was missing since Hong Kong that I've always felt lost without. A purpose.

When I first entered this business, I was driven by patriotism. When I found out the truth, I only wanted to avenge Danny and take Sloane down. When that happened, I worked towards having a real chance at love and a normal life with Vaughn. And now, my goal is to fulfill my prophecy. It feels a little odd, this complete change of view regarding Rambaldi, but my mother and my instincts have convinced me.

I pull into the driveway, turn off the car and sit for a minute. Thing will not get easier from here on out, I'm sure off that. But it's ok. This cause deserves all my effort.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_Sydney_

The beeping of an alarm is intruding on my first night of real sleep in a real bed with real sheets. I was so deeply gone that I'm struggling to remember why I set the damn thing in the first place. Finally it dawns on me that I wanted to go in early to my briefing. I groggily get out of bed and into the shower, replaying everything from yesterday over in my mind again.

Dixon did call me and give me all the information on the bank accounts. As soon as we hung up, I transferred everything into new accounts that only I'll have access too. And then I went shopping with Carrie. That was fun and the most normal experience I've had since waking up. I bought a lot of new clothes although I'm nowhere near having a full wardrobe yet.

And I have a new memory. I walked with my shopping bags and I saw Will standing at the counter with a glass of milk in his hand. And I remembered sitting at that outside table, opposite Sark, both eating milk and cookies while the sun beat down. We weren't talking but there was definitely a feeling of camaraderie.

Finally awake, I get out of the shower before the water turns cold. My new khaki pants fit perfectly and the black tank top completes the simple look. I dry my hair and pull it back in a clip at the back of my head.

I'm carrying my high heels when I walk out of my room and toss them on the mat by the front door as I greet a still sleepy eyed Will with his head buried in the refrigerator.

"Have anything around here that's suitable to eat?" I ask him. The fridge rattles and then his head pops out with a hand over the spot where it met a tray. Will displays a grimace at me.

"Ok, you evidentially haven't forgotten how to sneak around!" He now grins and rubs at the back of his head. "But you need to work on getting more observant."

I look down at the counter and see what I'd overlooked. A bag of bagels is sitting out along with a tub of cream cheese. A bowl of peaches, bananas, and apples is by them. I smile at Will as he turns back to the fridge and retrieves the carton of orange juice he was after. I watch him moving around the kitchen and think that I'll never take sharing a meal with another person for granted again.

I pop a bagel in the toaster and when it's done the click of the handle brings back another memory.

_I am standing behind a sofa. To my right is the porch and beyond that the ocean. To my left is the kitchen where the click of the toast finishing is heard. I hear my mother busying herself, making breakfast. Sitting on the sofa in front of me is my sister. _

_I cannot hear the words but I know we are talking about the papers and folders spread before us on the coffee table. A few other objects are there. Mini tape recorder, a pen. She turns around to look at me and her expression is tense. _

I just stare at the toaster and at my browned bagel until Will shakes my shoulder and says, "Sydney? Sydney are you ok?"

I shake myself mentally and make myself smile at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

He looks at me strangely, "You've been staring at your bagel for like a minute."

"Oh," I say and grab it out to put the cream cheese on.

"I guess I was just thinking. I'm going to go in early today. I'll see you when you get there, k?" I give him a peck on the cheek, grab a napkin for my bagel, snatch a banana, and pick up my car keys and phone off the bar.

Wriggling my feet into the high heels, I wave at Will and rush out. I have the sudden urge to get to the JTF, but it doesn't make sense. It's not like I'm going to tell Dad he has another daughter. A small smile creases my lips as I slide behind the wheel and balance my food. Another thing that should surprise me but hasn't. I have a sister. And I have the feeling she will be very instrumental in taking Sloane down.

Walking back into the CIA building unchained gives me a little thrill. For so many years I walked through these halls with out a second thought and now I know just how imposing this place can be. There are not a lot of people around at this hour. I decide to walk slowly around the building just reacquainting myself with it. It feels a thousand times removed from my experience a few days ago.

Finally, I head to the main room. I round a corner and there I see what has to be my desk. A small smile lights up my face because there is a big banner over it that says "WELCOME BACK!" There are a few balloons as well. Still smiling, I go over and sit down in my chair and lean back. Then I see Vaughn walk into the room.

His nose is buried in a folder and he's carrying a cup of coffee. I let myself watch as he sits down at his desk. The same one I remember him having; the one across an aisle and down one from mine. He is obviously completely focused on whatever he is working on and he logs on to his computer and is now intent on the screen. Suddenly, I'm having another memory.

_I roll over in the bed and open my eyes. Sunlight and breezes are coming through the open window and linen curtains flutter. I'm very disoriented, but soon focus my eyes and glance around the strange room. Startled, I see I'm not alone. In a chair, at the foot of the bed sits a blonde haired man staring at his laptop screen. I rise up on my elbows to get a better look at him. _

_He looks up at the noise of my movements and his crooked smirk reflects the humor I see in his blue eyes._

"_Good morning, Miss Bristow."_

I snap back to the present with a gulp. That was the morning I woke up after the fight and my world was changed. Evidently, Sark was around a lot while I was with my mother. Anyway, I don't want to dwell on that right now, so I think it's time to take Marshall up on his offer for new equipment. I stand up and walk past Vaughn on my way to the Technical Lab. He looks up and does a double take, surprised to see me.

"Oh. Hi, Sydney. You're, uh, here early." He doesn't meet my eyes and minimizes whatever was on his screen.

I pause and smile at him. "Hi. Yeah, I decided to come look around a bit before, you know…everything got back to normal."

He fidgets when he looks back up at me and tries to smile. "There've been some changes but it's all basically the same building."

I nod, and there is an awkward pause.

"Um, look...I was just going to go in search of Marshall. Is the lab in the same place?"

"Actually, that was one of the departments that got moved around. Let me walk you there." He looks nervous offering this, but we both know we're going have to learn to be around each other sooner or later. I hope my smile looks genuine as I agree.

We walk side by side in silence down the corridors. But now it's not an awkward silence, it's a shy one. Our footsteps are echoing in time together and the squeezing in my chest is coming back again. I hope the lab was moved closer.

We turn the corner and are greeted by glass panels. Vaughn puts his hand on the black door handle and opens it for me. I say thank you and start to go in, but he stops me with a hand on my arm.

"Sydney," he says and pauses, looking into the room. He takes a breath and looks straight into my eyes. "I'm still your ally." He gives me a somewhat apologetic and hopeful half-smile. My breath catches in my throat and I can't say anything.

Vaughn gives my arm a light squeeze then lets go of my arm and walks away. I watch him for a second, regaining my poise. It seems his heart still lies with me, and I don't know if I can handle that. He's married. He might have been happy if I hadn't returned. But I can't think about the "if only's" right now.

I turn into the room and wander around tables with wires and gadgets in various stages of completion. Marshal is sitting at one of the four computer consuls. He's got headphones on and is singing totally out of tune. I smile, walk over to him and tap his shoulder.

"WHOA! Syd!" He exclaims, jumping up out of the seat and pushing his headphones off.

"You're back! Well, I already knew that, remember, I went and saw you, yeah…" He looks at me for recognition, I nod and he continues. "but...I mean... you're really back. Here. On the job again!" Marshall has a huge grin on his face and just looks at me for a second before he suddenly sits back down. "I guess this means you'll be here for your stuff. Right?" He barely acknowledges my nod and keeps talking. "Right well... Um... let me just finish this...very delicate work... complicated equations... for.. um...yeah...this thing I'm working on. but you... wouldn't... understand it... so!"

He starts muttering while he's clicking and typing then turns the screen off. He gets up and gestures to me.

"Come right this way, step right up! Your stuff's in this bag. Swank shoes by the way! I think Carrie has them..."

He pulls out a black purse and hangs it over his arm. "See? Normal purse right? One you'd take to the mall and get your wallet out of...Here sir! Just ring it up!" He imitates a high voice. I stifle a smile. I've missed hearing him go on so much. He coughs and then stutters through showing me the hidden knife that is released by pressing one of the decorative metal divots.

Marshall also puts in a bug-killer lipstick, two-way communicator compact, knockout gas perfume bottle, a tazer keychain, and a silencer pen.

"Thank you so much, Marshall," I say as I gather my new gear together and prepare to go back to my desk. He blushes a little.

"No problem, and uh, it's good to have you back." He smiles and turns to get back to his work at the computer. As I close the door behind me I overhear him singing out of tune again.

I smile as I walk back through the corridors to my desk. Maybe it is good to be back.

The briefing room is exactly the same. I just walked in to find Kendall and my dad seated at the long black table. The screens are blank. I go to one far from the door and as soon as I sit Kendall closes the door.

"Good Morning, Agent Bristow, let's get started shall we?"

I nod as my father starts speaking.

"After the SD-6 takedown, Sloane disappeared for a long time. Around the same time, Benefit International was founded. It was seemed to be simply a society of major businesses and companies who give financial aid to various humanitarian efforts. It quickly became well-known and prestigious. What we didn't know was that Sloane was behind it and using it as a cover for his operations."

Kendall cut in, "We only learned when Sloane came out of hiding. He cornered Jack here in LA, revealed his connection with Benefit International, and told him confidently that they would work together again."

This all sounds vaguely familiar and I hear echoes of early conversations with my mother. But I can't let them know that.

"So, what's being done?" I ask.

"Well, it's been slow going, but we have some double agents in some of the minor corporations, and have a contact close to what appears to be a high ranking operative for Sloane himself." Kendall replies.

My dad jumps in with, "Progress may not sound like much, but believe me, we're in a good position right now."

I just nod. I'm willing to do whatever they need to help take Sloane down, whatever they need while I wait for my full memory to be restored and then maybe things will be clearer.

"Alright," Kendal presses a button on his remote and a picture of a man going through airport security is brought up on the screen.

"This is Eduardo Milan. He owns quite a few gold mines in central Peru. These mines also produce some silver, copper, and iron oxide. He recently became a member of Benefit International and since then we have been monitoring his activities. We had an agent retrieve all his invoices for the past eight months, and we've found some discrepancies between the production amounts and the shipped amounts. Some 3 million dollars worth of ore is missing at this point."

Kendall pauses and presses the button to bring up a new picture of a modest looking building.

"This is his office. We believe his safe is here as well. What we need to find if he is keeps records of where the unreported profits are going. Agent Bristow, you will be going in at midnight when the guard changes for the late night shift. More detailed mission specs will be on the plane, along with your op-tech. You leave tomorrow morning."

_Alice_

I'm getting worried. I haven't been on a mission or heard from Sloane in three months, since the day I got word he'd received my last mission report. True, I'm never contacted unless necessary, but this is the longest time I've gone without contact. It feels unsettling.

I get up off the sofa where I've been ignoring the book I'm supposed to be editing and walk out the front door. I should just check the mail instead of wondering what it might or might not hold.

The day is slightly cloudy, but warm with a small breeze. It's beautiful and I know Michael and I would have at least gone on a walk together this afternoon, but he was called in earlier than normal this morning.

I wish he would just tell me the truth about where he works, it would be so much easier. The little red flag is up on the box at the end of our drive. Pulling out the stack of mail, I start sorting it as I walk back inside. A junk mail ad for this little Hawaiian Shave Ice stand near the park falls to the ground and I squat down to pick it up. I smile. Finally, the silence has been broken.

I've walked past the little shave ice stand and I glance at my watch. I'm a little early, so I sit on a bench across the way, pretending to read but also watching the people for anything suspicious and double checking for tails. I'm a little glad Michael wasn't home when I left, it spared me having to make an excuse for taking a walk alone. At precisely six-thirty I get up and walk over to place my order for a small cherry in the little paper cone.

The attendant makes it for me quickly and then I slip around to the back, between the wall and the tall bushes and tree trunks. The door handle shakes as it unlocks. I step inside and grin at Danny sitting in chair by a little water cooler. We are in the storage room and the agent posing out front has orders not to come in the room for twenty minutes.

I take the other chair and begin eating my ice. Danny shakes his blond-brown head at me and starts talking.

"We don't have another mission yet, I hope I didn't get your hopes up," he says, slightly teasing. He knows I don't enjoy going months without any action.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Then why are we meeting?"

"Headquarters is finished and we're both to come in."

"Really? When?" I ask, a smile forming.

"In three days. Here are your plane tickets." Danny reaches into his jacket pocket and then hands me a round trip ticket to and from an airport in Chile.

"Under your seat will be a key. After you land, go to the storage lockers and use the key to open number 147. Our next instructions will be inside. I'm on a different flight, and I'll be there before you. We'll meet in the rental car area ten minutes after you arrive."

"That's it?" I ask. Going to see the new building is all well and good, but there has to be something else going on here. Sloane wouldn't just risk two of his top agent's covers for an open house.

Danny shrugs. "I know it seems odd. But Sloane must have something he wants us to see or something he wants to tell us in person."

I throw my empty paper cone away, tap the tickets against my palm and ponder this development.

"Ok, well, see you later then." I give him a hug and leave the little building. The plane tickets go in the secret pocket in my jacket and I head back towards my house, trying not to hypothesize too much about why Sloane would need to see us in person.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_Paris_

She sits alone under the soft yellow porch light. Wrapped up in a green blanket, legs curled under her, and hands folded in her lap. Staring off into the now dark blue waves reflecting the pale white moonlight, she wishes things could stay this peaceful forever.

But soon she will leave this island for an indefinite amount of time and she will just have to believe that she will return in later years. She looks down at an intricately carved wooden box sitting on the low table beside her. Her mother told her to open it three days after she left and that would be tonight.

Paris is very hesitant to open it, she already knows what it holds, but to finally read Rimbaldi's words herself will make every thing feel so final and inescapable.

Finally, she unfolds her body and brings the box to her lap. Manipulating its geometry, she lifts the wooden lid and stares at the ancient looking papers held together by fraying string.

Gingerly untying the cords and unfolding the papers she begins to read and mouths the prophecies silently.

_The woman here depicted will posses unseen marks. Signs that she will be the one to bring forth my works. Bind them with fury, a burning anger. Unless prevented, at vulgar cost this woman will render the greatest power unto utter desolation. _

Paris remembers the months she spent getting to know her sister. It's hard to reconcile these forceful words with Sydney's usual gentle character. But she also remembers seeing the drive and focus Sydney can have and she smiles. Sydney is now even more of a force to be reckoned with than she ever was before.

Flipping the page, she sees a picture of a middle-aged man in the lower right corner. She has never personally seen Sloane, but she's seen plenty of pictures and this looks just like him. Knowing about his obsession with Rambaldi, his knowledge of Rambaldi's works, and that he has this prophecy is unnerving.

_The man here depicted will be the one to bear my burden. This is he who will find all the answers and fulfill my works. He is my heir and will make the greatest power ever known to mankind realized upon the earth. _

It was confusing, why Rambaldi seemed to want something prevented and finished at the same time. Paris shook her head and turned to the final page. The fact that this was the one prophecy Irina had managed to hide from Sloane was the one thing that gave her cause any hope of succeeding. A sketch that was obviously her mother was in the lower right corner.

_The mother here depicted is the one who will seek. Combine this woman with her daughter, and a way out may be accomplished. She is a strength and a weakness to my heir, he must beware. If she gains what she seeks, demise is sure. _

Again, Paris wonders how Rambaldi can be so ambiguous. Whose demise isn't specified, but it makes sense to believe it is Sloane's. The last page is crowded with sketches and schematics and small sections of words. She reads the sentences next to the largest drawing first.

_This is the key to all that could be. Only this will answer the questions of life and death forever. _

The other words are just as cryptic.

_All forty seven pages and forty seven vials must be assembled if Il Dire be wrought correctly. The key holds the answer, but you must ask the right question. _

_The beginning of this time will come when the woman's mind is unlocked, when the mother starts her final seeking, and will stay until my heir has made an end sure._

_ 0 _

Paris closes the package back up and curls back up in the chair. The time of Rambaldi had begun and she had no more time to use in contemplating the things set so plainly in writing before her. These prophecies had been unleashed so uncertainly upon the universe, and she was there to help straighten them out. She stood up and went inside the house to pack a bag so she'd be ready whenever her signal came.

_Irina_

Sloane sits still, staring at her face in disbelief. He'd thought he was done dealing with her. He knew he was totally disregarding their meeting protocol, but then again, he doubted she expected him to.

"Hello," Irina purrs, "Expecting someone else?"

"I didn't know who to expect. What are you doing here yourself?" he asks, regaining control of his tongue.

"I could ask you the same thing. But never mind. I have an offer for you," she says, turning to face out into the night, but watching him from the corner of her eye as he resumes the proper contact role.

"What could you possibly have to offer me now that you couldn't before?"

"How many vials are you still looking for?" Irina sees him stiffen and knows she has fully grabbed his attention.

"You have them?"

"Not personally."

"Then you are wasting my time." he starts to get but her next words make him sit down again.

"I know who does."

"And you assume I want this information badly enough to give you something in return, am I right?"

Irina goes straight to her demand.

"I'd like to see Il Dire."

Sloane again disregards protocol and turns to narrow his eyes at her. He desperately needs to find the missing vials, but at the price of letting this woman near the masterpiece is just too high.

"You know that is not possible."

"But it would be if I also delivered to you Jack and Sydney, wouldn't it?"

Sloane looks at her with disbelief and distrust. He had just been putting plans together to bring Jack on board, and here he was on what looked like a silver platter. Sloane knew Irina had to have ulterior motives, but he'd never believed she'd use Jack and Sydney as bartering chips to realize them. Who was he to throw away such an opportunity? He didn't trust Irina, but he could use her and possible thwart whatever she was trying to do. The temptation was to great to resist. Sloane stands up and holds out his hand to Irina.

"Alright, it is a pleasure to do business with you again."

Irina shakes his hand and follows him to his waiting limo. Sitting in the backseat across from him, speeding off to who knows where, she smiles.


End file.
